“Not that I could tell.”
For some reason this only made her feel worse. Three months pregnant and picking up strange men. What kind of a person was she? “I think you’re lying,” she finally said, deciding she couldn’t be the kind of person to do what he’d said. She swatted his hand away and moved across the kitchen toward the back door.
“Look in your suitcase, Colette. You have a rip in the lining and inside is a lucky hundred dollar chip. We put it there that night.” He walked back to the table, drained the last of his coffee, then joined her at the back door. “It happened, Colette. And if I have anything to say about it, it’s going to happen again.” With these words, he flashed her one more wicked grin, then left.
On rubbery legs, Colette moved back to the table, her heart thudding the rapid beat of remembered passion. “It’s going to happen again.” It had been no threat. Rather it had been a smooth, velvet promise.
Although her head held no memory of their night together, her body seemed to hold the memory. As she contemplated making love with Hank, her pulse rate increased, her blood seemed to thicken and heatgrew in the center of her, expanding outward like a river of lava.
But why, when she’d first seen him, had she experienced not a sensation of passion, but rather one of impending danger? Why did she get the feeling there was more to their shared past than a single night spent in his arms? And why did she still have the feeling he was lying?
She left the kitchen and went to her bedroom. Bending down, she grabbed the suitcase she’d arrived with from the floor of the closet. She placed it on the bed, then opened it. Her heart thudded as she scanned the thin blue liner, looking for a tear.
Sure enough, in one corner the liner was pulled away, allowing her hand to snake inside and find what was hidden within. Her fingers closed around a large chip. She pulled it out and stared at it. A hundred dollar gambling chip with the name of the Stardust imprinted on its face.
Her heart resumed an unnatural rhythm as a memory nudged at her consciousness. Hank lying on a king-size bed, his naked body erotically sun-bronzed against the backdrop of the crisp white sheets. “You’re my good luck, coquette,” he said as he flipped the coin to her. His smile faded and his expression turned somber. “And let’s hope I’m yours. Before this mess is over, you’re going to need all the luck you can get.”
Colette frowned, reaching for more of the slice of memory, but anything else remained elusive, just out of reach. Still, what little she’d managed to remember convinced her without a doubt that there was more to her past relationship to Hank. All she had to figureout was, what it was and why she sensed an underlying danger in the whole mess.
She dressed in jeans and a summer blouse, checked on Brook, then went downstairs, her mind still reeling with the bits and pieces of the past she’d managed to glean. She’d just poured herself the last cup of coffee when somebody knocked on the back door. Peering out, she saw Bob Sanderson, one of the ranch hands, standing on the back porch.
She opened the door. “Hi, Bob.”
“Ms. Colette.” He pulled his dusty hat off his head. “Ms. Abby told me there’s a leaky kitchen pipe she wanted me to fix. So, I’m here to fix it.” He scratched the scar that ran down his left cheek, as if self-conscious about the livid mark.
She stepped aside to let him in. “For the past two days that leak has been an irritation. It will be nice to have it fixed.”
“It should take just a few minutes,” he explained as he set a small toolbox next to the sink and opened the cabinets beneath. He withdrew a large wrench from the tools. “I’ll have to shut this water off for a few minutes. That all right?”
“Fine,” Colette assured him as she sat at the kitchen table. She stared into her coffee, her mind still sifting through the information she’d gained from Hank.
“I guess you’ve gotten all settled in here. Where was it I heard you were before?” Bob asked, his head beneath the sink.
“In California,” Colette answered absently.
“Ah, California. I lived there for a while years ago. Beautiful state, one of my favorites of all the onesI’ve been to. I was working on a ranch out there and when the job ended, I took a couple weeks and stayed right out there along the coast. Nothing like ocean air to make you feel good. Did you get a chance to spend time near the coast?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. “Yes, sir, I love the ocean. I probably should have been a fisherman instead of a cattleman. Hell, now I’m too old and too tired to change my livelihood.” He popped his head out from under the cabinets and smiled at her sheepishly. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?” His lips curved up in a rueful smile. “My mama always told me I could talk the ear off a mule. Loose lips sink ships, that’s what she’d say.” He disappeared under the cabinet.
An icy chill finger-walked up Colette’s back.Loose lips sink ships. Loose lips sink ships.Bob’s words echoed in her head. Those very words whispered in her ear, a hot breath warning her as hands gripped her shoulders painfully. “Loose lips sink ships, little lady.” Words hissed with venom.
She stood, fighting an overwhelming impulse to run. Escape. A surge of self-protection she didn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend.
The back door opened and Abby and Cody walked in. “The fish weren’t biting and we got bored.” She looked at Colette, then at Bob, who’d stopped his work as they entered. “Everything all right?”
“Right as rain,” Bob replied, apparently not feeling the tension that rolled off Colette. “I’ve just about got this pipe replaced and that should solve the problem.”
“Good. Thanks, Bob.” Abby directed her attentionto her son. “Cody, go and wash the worm gunk off your hands.”
“I’ve got the water shut off,” Bob said.
Abby eyed her son’s filthy hands. “Go out to the shed and wash up.” When he’d run outside, she took Colette’s arm and led her into the living room. “You okay? You’re white as a sheet and looked like you were ready to bolt out the door.”
Colette drew a deep breath. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” Abby eyed her sharply.
“I’m getting little flashes of memories.”
